1) Lucas
2) Lucas
3) Lucas
4) Lucas
5) Lucas
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I woke up around ten and picked up the phone on the nightstand, following the instructions to make an international call. It was probably unforgivable to wake Coco at four AM her time to discuss orgasms but I had to talk to somebody. I had to hear someone tell me I wasn’t crazy or slutty or both.
Although I didn’t feel slutty. In general, I’m not judgmental about sex, and even in the light of morning, my behavior with Lucas didn’t strike me as promiscuous. We’d been careful. It’s just that I didn’t have a habit of being so spontaneous, and I’d come to Paris expecting one thing and experiencing the total opposite.
“Hello?”
“Oh. My. God.”
“Mia!” Coco’s croaky voice held a note of worry. “What time is it? Are you OK?”
“I’m better than OK.” A shiver pulsed through my body. “I’m f**king ecstatic.”
Coco sucked in her breath. “What? Oh my God, what’s going on over there?”
“You’re not going to believe this. I can barely believe it.”
“Go on.”
I licked my lips. “I met someone.”
Her squeal was so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “And?”
“And I had three orgasms last night.”
Silence.
“Coco?”
“I’m sorry, I was in shock. Did you say three?”
I smiled. “Yes.”
“Who is this wizard of O’s?”
“His name is Lucas. He’s a professor in New York, but he’s half-French and living here for the summer.”
“Omigod. I’m dying. How old is he?”
“I don’t know, actually. We didn’t really talk about that.” Which was kind of funny and also kind of crazy—I’d never, never slept with someone without knowing their age. Or their shirt size, middle name, car make and model. “I’d guess he’s about our age, though. Maybe a little older.”
“What does he look like?”
Ha. She was going to love this. “You won’t believe it.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t either. He’s got messy dark hair and scruff. And he isn’t tall.”
“What? What do you mean, messy hair?”
I closed my eyes and pictured it, recalled the feel of it in my hands. “Kind of scraggly. Thick and wavy.”
“And scruff?”
“Scruff,” I confirmed. “Oh, and he plays the guitar.”
“Next you’re going to tell me he has tattoos.”
I giggled. “Not that I noticed. Yet.”
“Oh. My. God, Mia. Where did you meet him?”
Flipping on to my stomach, I told her all about my disastrous first evening and how I’d randomly wandered into the bar where he was working. “And the weird thing is, he doesn’t really even work there. It’s his brother’s bar or something, and he was just filling in.”
Coco gasped. “It’s fate.”
I shrugged and wound a strand of hair around my finger. Was there such a thing as fate? I wasn’t sure. “Anyway, he offered to be my tour guide for a day so I wouldn’t have to see Paris alone. I was ready to turn around and come home before that.”
“Sounds like it was a hell of a tour.”
“It was. I mean, it didn’t get sexy until late in the night, but when it did, it really did.” In fact, I was getting wet now just thinking about it. Damn.
“I just can’t believe it! So will you see him again?”
“Uh huh. Part two of the tour.” Which I hope ends the same way Part One did. Quickly, I counted the days I had left in my head. Five—although hadn’t Lucas said he was leaving Paris tomorrow? Shit. Maybe today was all we had left.
Coco sighed. “This is so amazing. Can I tell Erin?”
“Of course!” I tugged at my hair. “She’ll probably think I’ve lost my mind here.”
“No, she won’t! She’ll be thrilled, just like I am. You deserve this, Mia. And don’t start overthinking it.”
I sighed. “I’m trying not to. Last night I didn’t let myself start analyzing it at all. You would have been proud of me.”
“But you’re starting to second guess things now?”
I tugged harder on my hair. She knew me too well. “It’s so unlike me to act this way. And when I think about the circumstances…”
“Why do you have to think about the circumstances? How does it feel?”
I closed my eyes, and he was there. I could smell him, hear him, feel him... Warmth blossomed at my center. “It feels good.”
“Well then.”
“You’re sure this isn’t stupid? Or slutty?”
“What? No! Damn it, woman, you’re young and newly single. This is what you’re supposed to be doing! Now listen. I want you to be safe, but keep having fun and throw your f**king caution to the wind, you hear me?”
I laughed. “I hear you. And I’ll try. Sorry for waking you, I just—I had to hear you tell me I wasn’t crazy.”
“You’re not crazy. And I’m totally jealous. I love you—call me again, OK?”
“I will. I love you too. Bye.”
I hung up the phone and stretched, feeling a soreness in my limbs and abs that hadn’t been there yesterday morning, and it widened the secret smile on my face. When I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom, I realized I was tender in places that had not hurt for years. YEARS. Maybe not ever.